


bet you can't guess who

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Slash, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: The pack secret Santa had been Stiles' idea.He figured it might help the pack members get closer to each other, help bridge gaps between them and heal old wounds after all the shit they had been through together, help them actually come together as a real pack for once. Because as things were the pack was closer to falling apart completely than coming together cohesively.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!

The pack secret Santa had been Stiles' idea.

He figured it might help the pack members get closer to each other, help bridge gaps between them and heal old wounds after all the shit they had been through together, help them actually come together as a real pack for once. Because as things were the pack was closer to falling apart completely than coming together cohesively.

There was still animosity brewing between most of them and misplaced blame being tossed around willy nilly typically without any regard for the actual facts of the matter. The pack was never able to completely bond and put old grudges to bed before the next supernatural debacle cropped up.

Scott and Derek were still constantly at each other's throats: Scott still blaming Derek for Peter giving him the bite and Derek still sick and tired of Scott's consistent failure to take any real responsibility for anything he did. And so, just when Stiles was praying things could go back to normal just the slightest bit, the kanima catastrophe happened.

After dealing with Jackson's little identity crisis, there was even more tension amongst the pack. Between most, if not all, of them.

Scott hated Derek. Jackson hated Derek. Allison hated Derek. Derek hated Peter. Stiles hated Peter and Isaac and even somewhat hated Allison. And Erica and Boyd were missing. And to make matters even worse, there was an entire pack of alphas rolling into town.

After the Alpha Pack and the Darach were taken care of, things were even worse. Boyd and Erica were back but Isaac was blaming Derek for everything that had happened---despite the fact that he was as much a victim as anyone else, perhaps even more so---along with Scott, both of them putting the weight of the world on the shoulders of a man who had just been violated yet again by someone he had come to trust.

But even that was nothing compared to the Nogitsune.

Everything was different after the Nogitsune, from the pale fulgurating scars raking down Stiles' back to the fact that now people flinched whenever they saw him, from the nightmares that left him screaming in the middle of the night soaked in sweat to the phantom memory of blood on his hands.

For someone who had frequently lamented, for years, that he was nothing more than a weak human with a knack for research, to the point that he had occasionally regretted his rejection of the bite when Peter had offered it, experiencing just a taste of all the destructive power of a centuries old demon coursing through his veins was more than a little disconcerting. It was disillusioning. Earth-shattering.

Allison still looked at him with a shadow of fear in her eyes, Scott and Isaac instinctively stepping in front of her to shield her with their bodies whenever Stiles entered the room. Erica and Isaac, and now Kira too, still tensed up around him, as though they were all worried he was about to turn on them any second.

His own dad sometimes hesitated to touch him, cautious and wary when he actually did pull Stiles in for a warm hug or throw his arm around Stiles' shoulders to tussle his hair. Melissa had to school her features whenever she saw him, so as not to show any obvious fear. But it was still obvious no matter what she did. And it still hurt.

Even Peter looked a little wary of him, narrowing his eyes critically and looking him up and down when he thought wouldn't notice. But, again, he did.

And Derek, well Derek just looked at him. The way one monster looked at another.

Because now Stiles didn't have to wonder about what it must be like to live your life feared by almost everyone who what you really were. He didn't have to wonder about what it was like to have people be terrified to meet his eyes and cross the street when they saw him walking down the sidewalk.

He knew now.

So, with the holidays fast approaching and the need for human, or rather supernatural, connection a gaping hole inside of him, he figured maybe having a secret Santa might help actually bring the pack together for once. He brought it up at a pack meeting in the midst of yet another one of Derek and Scott's intense glaring sessions, Derek looking murderous and always and Scott looking like a petulant little kid who hadn't gotten his way, hoping to break up some of the tension in the room.

Most of the pack had been pretty amenable to the idea, apparently as eager for a ceasefire as he was, Derek and Peter naturally a little more reserved about it. But thanks to Stiles' superior negotiating skills, and his absolutely irresistible puppy dog eyes, they'd eventually agreed.

They had set the price limit fairly low at a mere twenty dollars, nearly all of the pack members unemployed and therefore without a steady income, and picked names out of a hat a few days before Thanksgiving to give everyone ample time to find the perfect gifts. With all the names picked, making sure no one picked their own name, they had agreed to have a pack meeting slash party at the loft a few days before Christmas to exchange gifts.

Everything was looking good so of course Stiles had to go and pick Derek's name, of all people, out of the hat. He had consoled himself with the fact that at least he hadn't gotten Peter and set to work trying to figure out what the hell to get the grumpy alpha.

He was extremely wary of offending him in any way, quickly ruling out anything dog joke related or anything overtly sexual or anything to do with fire in any way shape or form. He had contemplated a few humorous gifts, from getting Derek a Grumpy Cat t-shirt or mug to a pair of cutesy wolf patterned pajama pants, but ultimately ruled them out in favor of a more thoughtful, sentimental gift.

They needed meaningful gifts to really bring the pack together and gag gifts just wouldn't cut it. No matter how funny the wolf boxers with the wolves howling at the moon on the backside were. (Stiles may or may not have bought himself a pair because they were just that perfect)

He considered a few more serious gifts, contemplating symbolically adopting an endangered wolf in Derek's name or even naming a star after him, but he figured for Christmas something more tangible and more personal would be better.

It wasn't much, just a simple silver dog tag engraved with a short little memorial poem, but he desperately hoped Derek liked it. It was the same poem that was his dad had recited to him almost every night after his mom died, softly murmuring it like a plea whenever he tucked him into bed, Stiles clutching what had once been his mother's pillow: /Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us every day Unseen, unheard, but always there, still loved, still missed, and forever dear./

Admittedly, he was worried that he might unintentionally reopen old wounds, might remind Derek of things he would much rather forget about but never could. So, in case of any traumatizing present faux pas, Stiles had also gotten Derek a back up gift; a collection of books Peter had off-handedly mentioned Derek being particularly fond of.

Stiles just hoped he didn't ruin Christmas.

He spent the afternoon before the pack meeting slash party stress baking his ass off, making as many holiday themed desserts as he could think of to calm his frazzled nerves, anxious beyond belief about the gift exchange. He ended up with a batch of eggnog cheesecake bars, three dozens of hot chocolate cookies, and a salted caramel pie, all of which he carefully loaded into his Jeep to bring over to the loft.

The shocked and excited looks he received when he arrived at the loft with four trays of desserts completely justified his little stress baking session. Scott and Erica nearly tackled him in their haste to get at the trays of dessert once the smell hit their noses, swiftly grabbing the container of cheesecake bars right out of his hands like eager little puppies.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles dropped his bag down by the couch and set the other desserts on the coffee table, careful not to scuff the expensive piece of Italian furniture, before slipping out of the room into the kitchen to put his gift with the others on the kitchen island. He paused to grab a soda from the fridge and walked back into the main room where almost the rest of the pack was scattered, plopping down on the couch beside Erica who was scarfing down a cookie, marshmallow sticking to her red lipstick.

"These are pretty good," Isaac stated casually, taking a bite of his own cookie. It wasn't much by way of compliments but coming from Isaac, whom Stiles was pretty sure hated his guts, it was high praise.

"Thanks. It's my mom's recipe," Stiles said with an overly nonchalant shrug, trying to refrain from puffing his chest out as he cracked open his soda and took a sip to hide his satisfied grin.

He was still preening to himself when Derek strolled down the spiral staircase looking absolutely gorgeous in a gray Henley and bluntly asked, "Who baked?"

That was the other reason Stiles was so nervous about being Derek's secret Santa; for years he had been mostly successful in concealing the hopeless, pathetic crush he had on Derek and he couldn't help but be worried that his gift might be the straw that broke the camel's back and Derek would finally realize how much Stiles cared about him.

Throughout the years as they dealt with various supernatural threats, Stiles dealt with his supernaturally huge crush on Derek that had grown from a half baked sexual attraction when he first met him in the preserve to a full-fledged romantic infatuation. And so for years Stiles had put all of his effort into keeping his feelings under wraps, not wanting to ruin the budding friendship he and Derek had with his stupid, messy feelings.

It wasn't like Derek could ever return his feelings anyway.

"Stiles did," Erica announced around a mouthful of rich chocolate and gooey marshmallow, voice muffled slightly. Derek immediately sent Stiles a skeptical look complete with a dubiously raised eyebrow.

"What?" Stiles snapped defensively, bristling slightly at Derek's apparent disbelief. He was just trying to contribute god damn it. "I thought it'd be nice."

Derek raised his palms in surrender and took a seat across from Stiles in his armchair, picking up a cookie as he leaned back against the soft, pliant cushions. Stiles watched raptly as Derek took a bite, tempted to puff out his chest again when Derek briefly closed his eyes to savor the rich chocolatey taste.

"So, now that everyone's finally here, how exactly is this going to work?" Peter piped up, interrupting Stiles' daydream about Derek and chocolate, as he carried all the secret Santa gifts out of the kitchen. He laid them on the coffee table beside Stiles' trays of desserts and took a seat on the arm of the couch next to Stiles.

"I figure we pick someone to go first, they open their gift and guess who their secret Santa is," Stiles began, craning his head to look up at Peter. "Whoever their secret Santa is goes next. So on and so on. And then we all hug and watch Christmas movies---" he rolled his eyes when Derek snorted "---Okay, maybe not hug. But still, holiday pack bonding."

"Sounds reasonable enough," Peter observed evenly, crossing his legs to get more comfortable. "Now, who's first?"

"Well, it was Stiles' idea," Kira chimed in. "Maybe we should let him go first."

Stiles was about to demur, a refusal on the tip of his tongue, when the rest of the pack unanimously agreed, nodding and passing him his present, plopping the heavy gift in his lap. Conceding with a sigh, Stiles set his soda down on the coffee table and regarded his present: the wrapping paper was simple, a bright shiny red with a large green bow smacked on top.

Eager as ever, Stiles quickly tore into the wrapping paper without finesse, as uncontrollably curious as usual. Peeling away the shiny wrapping paper, he found a book but it was far from an ordinary book. It was old, extremely old, bound in smooth black leather with silver accents and locks, a striking cameo of a silver raven adorning the front cover.

Reverently running his hand down the front cover, tracing his fingers over the raven's curved beak, the black leather cool beneath his palm, Stiles gently opened the book to find elaborate handwritten Polish and Latin on pages gilded with silver. Carefully thumbing through the pages, he noticed hand-drawn pictures and diagrams of various supernatural creatures, recognizing detailed images of Wiła and Rusalka and other Slavic creatures.

"Oh my god, this is a Polish bestiary," Stiles murmured in pure, unabashed awe, brushing his fingers over the slightly faded pages, taking a moment to read a short sidenote about brzeginia scales. Somehow managing to tear his eyes away from the page, Stiles turned his head to look up at Peter, accusing, "It's from you, isn't it?"

Peter shook his head with a crooked smirk and leaned over to grab a cheesecake bar, taking a large bite as Stiles contemplated who else his secret Santa might be.

"Kira?" Stiles asked, peering around Erica and Boyd to raise a curious brow at Kira. She too shook her head with a small smile and a sip of her own soda.

"Uh, Derek?" Stiles guessed, grasping at straws. But Derek just shook his head and finished eating his cookie, Stiles desperately trying to think of who else would possibly think to buy him a book. Snapping his fingers, Stiles triumphantly announced, "Ooh, I know!---" he twisted to point a finger at Boyd's face "---Boyd!"

Boyd's mouth quirked up in a small grin as he nodded, confirming Stiles' guess. He rolled his eyes yet indulgently raised his hand to accept Stiles' excited high five as Stiles crowed, "Dude! This is the coolest! Where'd you find it?"

"Bookstore a couple towns over," Boyd explained as Stiles went back to inquisitively perusing through the thick bestiary, careful not to rip any of the thin, brittle pages. "I'll give you the address later."

"Thanks, man," Stiles beamed, sparing a glance up at Boyd.

"Alright, babe. It's your turn," Erica pointed out, picking out Boyd's gift from the pile on the coffee table, handing it to her boyfriend as she leaned back against the couch cushions. It was sloppily wrapped in green and red striped wrapping paper, Stiles' first clue that Scott was Boyd's secret Santa having seen his friend's poor attempts at wrapping gifts every year since they were still being potty trained.

Boyd carefully picked the clear tape off off the edges of the striped wrapping paper with his thumb, untying the gold ribbon looped around it in a messy bow. His slow, methodical approach to unwrapping his gift was a surprise to absolutely no one.

Finally finishing unwrapping his gift, Boyd produced a box of assorted chocolates, Russell Stover to be exact. Stiles had to forcibly refrain from face-palming. He knew they should have established more gift guidelines to avoid any kinds of generic gifts.

"So, who do you think's your secret Santa?" Erica asked, drumming her gold painted nails against the box of chocolates.

"Scott," Boyd answered easily, again to the surprise of no one, save for Scott himself.

"Aww, man! How'd you know it was me?" Scott whined good-naturedly as Isaac rifled through the pile of gifts to find Scott's.

Boyd shrugged. "Lucky guess."

Stiles could have kissed him. Instead, as Scott began to unwrap his present, Stiles discreetly offered his hand for a covert fist bump Boyd fortunately returned as Erica tapped a finger against the box of chocolates and declared, "I call all the caramel ones."

"Sure thing, babe," Boyd laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist to tug her a little closer as everyone turned their attention back to Scott.

"Dude!" Scott hooted excitedly, literally throwing his hands up in the air. In one hand he brandished his gift: the new video game he had been ranting and raving about for weeks on end.

"Dude!" He repeated with just as much gusto as the first time, turning to Stiles with a huge smile plastered on his face. "Dude! This is best! Thanks!"

"Wasn't me," Stiles told him, shaking his head but unable to keep from smiling widely at his friend's palpable excitement.

"Really?" Scott asked, completely aghast. Fumbling to guess again, he ventured, "Isaac?"

Isaac shook his head, just like Allison and Kira did when he guessed them next. Throwing his head back in defeat, Scott groaned, "Then who?!"

Erica immediately raised her hand, claiming, "That'd be me."

"Sweet, thanks!" Scott said with a grin before turning his attention back to his video game, flipping it over to read the back cover.

Boyd searched through the assortment of gifts for Erica's, handing her a neatly wrapped purple present with a silver bow. She took it from his hands with a smile and a peck on the cheek, Stiles unable to help but notice the way Derek's expression softened as he watched them together.

Erica promptly picked off the tape with her nails, voraciously ripping into the purple wrapping paper. Pulling back the wrappings, she revealed a clear plastic box, a figure of Catwoman smirking back up at her.

"Okay, this is definitely from Stiles!" Erica cackled, turning to point a finger at his chest. "Right?!"

"Nope," Stiles refuted, shaking his head and raising his palms.

"Derek?" She ventured next, turning to the alpha. Derek just shook his head with a small shrug, leading Erica to peer around Kira to peek at Isaac. "Isaac?"

He shook his head too, leaving Erica with a thoroughly puzzled look on her face. "Then who the hell...?"

Allison somewhat reluctantly raised her hand, merely shrugging when Erica's eyes widened comically. "Stiles told me about the whole Catwoman-Batman thing."

"Aww, Stiles!" Erica cooed, reaching over to obnoxiously pinch Stiles' cheek like an overzealous grandma. "You're such a sweetheart!"

Stiles smacked her hand away playfully, rubbing at the red spot on his cheek as Isaac browsed through the pile of gifts until he produced a small ornately wrapped box he handed Allison. She eagerly shredded the pristine white wrapping paper, finding a cream colored box with an unfamiliar company name scrawled in gold across the top of the box.

Lifting the top of the box off, she let out a small, pleased gasp grabbing her gift out of the box and hugging it to her chest. Pulling her hands back she revealed a pair of new brown leather archery gloves, exclaiming, "Oh my god! These are amazing!"

"Isaac?" She guessed, only receiving a small shake of his head. She twisted around, eyebrows furrowed. "Stiles?"

Stiles shook his head again, prompting Allison, who was thoroughly baffled, to quietly ask, "Then who?"

"That would be me," Peter spoke up, already searching through the dwindling pile of gifts for his present. He grabbed a present wrapped in light blue with a small white bow as Allison gaped at her new gloves, using a claw to efficiently slice open the wrapping paper.

"Well, well, well," he mused, balling up the wrapping paper and tossing it over his shoulder where it bounced against the polished concrete floor. He turned his gift around to reveal a box of whiskey stones, remarking, "Good taste like this could only come from a Whittemore."

Jackson just smirked and sorted through the pile of gifts, picking up a gift messily wrapped in green and gold wrapping paper. Not wasting any time, Jackson ripped off the wrapping paper and proudly brandished his gift: a certificate for a full treatment at the spa a couple towns over.

"No clue," Jackson shrugged lazily, clearly not very willing to participate in the holiday festivities.

"You're not even gonna guess?" Stiles accused, raising a disapproving brow. Leave it to Jackson to be a spoilsport.

"I don't know," Jackson grunted. "Isaac?"

Isaac just nodded, scratching the back of his head almost shyly as Jackson's eyes practically bulged out of his head. He graciously accepted the gift Allison handed him, tearing into the wrapping paper and yanking off the top of the medium sized box he found inside, pulling out a deep blue flannel scarf that he immediately wound around his neck.

"Derek?" Isaac guessed quietly, reverently running his hands over the soft fabric of the scarf, looking happier and more touched than Stiles had ever, ever seen him. He kind of wanted to hug him.

Stiles tore his eyes away from Isaac's radiant smile in time to see Derek shake his head, the alpha smiling to himself at Isaac's blatant happiness. Whipping his head around, Isaac gawked at Kira, inquiring, "Kira?"

"Yup!" Kira beamed, nodding enthusiastically. She reached forward to run her fingers over the blue flannel as she asked, "Do you really like it?"

"Yeah! I love it!" Isaac confirmed with a frantic bob of his head, smiling even wider than before. After a moment, he jumped to attention. "Oh! Here lemme grab you yours."

He picked up one of the last two gifts on the coffee table, handing it to Kira who smiled gratefully and began unwrapping her present. She gently ripped off the red wrapping paper, revealing a square, medium sized, white box.

She eagerly opened the box, accidentally ripping the cardboard as she fumbled with the tape, and promptly squealed. Loud enough and high-pitched enough that several of the 'wolves noticeably winced, Peter muttering under his breath to Stiles, "And I thought you were a headache."

"Oh, please. You adore me," Stiles mumbled, just loud enough for Peter to hear, as Kira dug into the box for her gift. She proudly raised a black mug accented with bright white flecks of paint resembling stars, constellations spread out across the black, night-like canvas of the mug.

"Derek?" She murmured, glancing up briefly to look at Derek. He nodded, soft smile growing almost imperceptibly. "I love it! Thank you so much! It's perfect!"

"You're up, boss," Boyd informed Derek, sliding the last present across the table towards him. Stiles couldn’t help but swallow heavily as Derek tentatively picked up his gift, quirking a thick brow at the Superman wrapping paper Stiles had used. 

Derek carefully and methodically plucked off the tape, making sure he didn’t tear a single inch of the wrapping paper, as though he was going to save it. Stiles impatiently tapped his fingers against his thigh as Derek unwrapped his present painstakingly slow.

Once he had peeled away the wrapping paper, Derek opened the small black box he found, gingerly lifting off the top as if worried he might break whatever was inside. Stiles watched with bated breath as Derek scooped the dog tag out of the box, holding it in his palm as he read the engraved words.

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath as Derek finished reading the dog tag, steeling himself for Derek’s response, expecting anger, expecting outrage, expecting something horrible. But Derek only Derek raised his head to meet Stiles’ eyes, softly murmuring, “Stiles.”

“Uh, do you not like it?” Stiles blurted, hopping to his feet. He rushed over to his bag before Derek could say anything, bending over to rifle it through it for the books. “Because I got you something else, too! Just lemme grab it real qui―”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, freezing Stiles in his tracks as he straightened up, books in his arms. “Shut up.”

He tensed as Derek stood from his seat, stalking towards him like some silent predator in pursuit of its prey. Swallowing heavily, Stiles squared his shoulders and braced himself for harsh words and a brutal ejection from the loft, from the pack. 

But to his surprise, Derek only wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. Shocked, Stiles dropped the books with a dull clatter and awkwardly returned the embrace, looping his arms around Derek’s neck as the alpha buried his face in the side of his neck, whispering thickly, “Thank you.”

“Oh, Der,” Stiles mumbled, low enough for only Derek to hear, tightening his arms around him and comfortingly running his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Derek’s neck. Derek fisted his hands in the fabric of Stiles’ hoodie, desperately clutching him closer. “Hey, it’s okay.”

He had no idea how long they stood there holding each other, the pack looking on in silence as they embraced one another like their lives depended on it, both of them either too stubborn or too touch-starved, or maybe both, to let go first. When they finally parted, both slowly dropping their arms at the same time, Derek gave Stiles a small, sweet smile, his cheeks flushed a deep red, Stiles returning the smile with a bright grin of his own.

“Oh, here let me,” Stiles insisted, gently taking the dog tag from Derek’s hands, careful not to smudge the sterling silver. Derek raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side, until Stiles lifted his hands to pull the chain over Derek’s head, trailing his fingers down the chain to the dog tag that now rested in the center of Derek’s chest. “There. Looks good.”

He beamed back up at Derek, hands lingering on Derek’s chest as they stared at each, basking in each other’s presence, the rest of the world fading away. Derek broke the silence by clearing his throat and saying, “So, um Christmas movies?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah,” Stiles mumbled, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck, feeling his face fill with heat. Moving past Derek, he made a beeline for the couch, sitting down before he could make an even bigger idiot of himself. “So, what do guys wanna watch?”

“I was thinking you could pick,” Derek announced, moving to sit beside Stiles on the couch, Erica and Boyd scooching down to give him room, Erica winking at Stiles over Boyd’s shoulder, Peter snorting to his right. Derek inclined his head to look at Stiles, innocently inquiring, “What do you wanna watch?”

“The Christmas Shepherd,” Stiles declared without hesitation. He raised a finger to shush Derek when he began rolling his eyes, “And I reserve the right to make as many dog jokes as humanly possible!”

Derek let out a small chuckle and relaxed back against the couch cushions, Isaac standing to put the DVD in the player, skipping over the trailers until they reached the main menu. They watched the opening sequence in silence, Stiles startling when Derek slipped his hand into his, running his thumb over the back of Stiles’ palm.

Settling, shifting his body towards Derek, Stiles couldn’t help but think it was the best Christmas he’d had in years.


End file.
